Number 2 and other bathroom humor.

I have this thing with bodily functions.  They do not bode well with me.  I do not care for seeing them, hearing them, or hearing jokes about them.  I think that bodily functions should happen in the privacy of your bathroom or a room when you are all by yourself.
I was at a 4th of July celebration a couple weeks ago talking with a couple that I had just met.  They seemed like relatively normal people beside the fact that the husband would not stop talking about poop. I thought that I would handle the poop humor the good old fashion passive aggressive way and bring up something that he might feel uncomfortable with.  I turned to his wife and ask, "So uh when are we going to go see Magic Mike?" 
I was shocked to learn that she had no idea what I was talking about.  I took it upon myself to let her in on the beauty of the male form which is called Magic Mike.  "It's about male strippers.  How could you not of heard of that?"
The look and horror that crossed her face reminded me of the time I accidentally walked in on my parents having sex (I think mine was so much worse.  I could watch Magic Mike over and over again and be completely cool about it. Whereas I think I will have to poke my eyeballs out of their sockets if I have to relive that horrific night when I was a small tween at the bright ole age of 12, when all things  were right and wonderful in the world was ruined by the fact that I just didn't knock on the bedroom door.  Stupid me! Stupid, Stupid me!). You can imagine it right (the face not the my parents having sex part)? That is the look I got.
Her husband turns to me and tells me how he doesn't like this conversation.  I asked him what's not to like about Channing Tatum and Matthew Mcconaughy dancing down to their washboard abs and tight behind. I haven't really seen the movie in the theatre this is how it all goes down in my head. 
From that point I decided that I had tortured them enough with my Magic Mike talk and decided to take the high road and change the subject.  That is until Mr. Husband Man starts talking about #2 again.  Really didn't catch the hint the first time?
To which point in time I turn to his wife and tell her how we should plan a trip to Las Vegas to go and see The Thunder from Down Under.  Because we doesn't want to see that?
The poor wife stuck between my inappropriate male stripping talk and her husbands disgusting talk about the bathroom.  At this point the husband had had enough.  He turns to me and tells me that he doesn't think that this conversation is appropriate and that his wife doesn't appreciate it either.  I secretly think that he was just holding a grudge because he didn't get the lead role like he really wanted.  That was when his hopes and dreams of being a dancer were crushed. I guess next time I should be more sensitive to his hurt feelings.